An Emery&Chris story
Chris and Emery continue their weekend getaway weekend in the secluded cabin in the Blue Ridge mountains. A competitive game reveals a little secret, and the couple receive a holiday surprise.
Warnings: real life, fluff, language
Word Count: 2321
Images found on Pinterest. Sources unknown.
Click here for part one of this story…
Shyly, Emery turns from the hot stove, handing her sleepy-eyed husband a plate of Southwest eggs, hashbrowns, and a steaming cup of coffee.
“Bacon will be ready in a minute,” she appeases, nibbling a bite of her toast.
“What’s all this for?” he asks. “You don’t usually fix all my favorites at once; you always say it’s a heart attack on a plate.” Sprinkling pepper over the whole meal, he jokes, “Are you trying to kill me?”
She giggles, carrying her plate, with the served up bacon, to the table. “It’s an apology,” she says, tucking her leg under her bottom as she sits in the wobbly chair. “I was kind of a bitch the last few days.”
Chris opens his mouth to replay and promptly snaps it shut, hiding his smile behind his large hand. He clears his throat, holding back his laughter. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
She chuckles, mixing together her scrambled eggs with the potatoes, reaching for the tabasco sauce. “It’s my hormones. They’re still crazy, but getting better.”
He nods, reaching over to pat her hand. Losing their baby last spring had been difficult on both of them, in more ways than one. They had gone to therapy together to work through their pain. As a couple, they had decided to be more careful, to wait till there was a more definitive end in sight for studio connections related to Cap. Chris rubs his thumb over the back of her small hand, before pulling back and picking up his fork, his mind still wandering, not really knowing what to say. He lifts the forkful of eggs to his mouth, chewing in silence. Leaving for ten weeks to South Africa during the summer had been trying, to say the least. In his absence, Emery had hid her sorrows in a buckets of ice cream and fast food, eating comfort foods as she traveled and gave school trainings, gaining a little extra weight. She hates it, but he likes the added curves.
“Hey,” he blurts out, shocking them both from their contemplative morning. His own look of surprise makes her giggle. “Did you pack our hiking boots? It’s nice out. Why don’t we take that path we looked at the other day, before it gets too cold.”
He cringes inwardly, hoping she doesn’t take it as a slam against her weight, but her face brightens. “I love that idea, jelly bean. They’re in the back of the truck.”
The young couple finish their breakfast, making plans to pack for the hike and the easy comfort returns between the two.
Carrying the firewood in, Chris laughs as she loads everything into the new pressure cooker she’s been raving about for weeks. “Don’t let my mother see you do that; it’s not real Italian if it doesn’t simmer for hours and splatter gravy on the cabinets.”
“She gave me the recipe,” Emery laughs, sticking her tongue out at him. “It just makes everything easier. Why do you think I brought it along for the weekend?”
Tightening the lid, she punches a code on the space age front and reaches for two beer from the fridge. She nods to him, “Unless you want something warm?”
He arranges the logs carefully, stoking the burning embers to rebuild the blaze. He shakes his head. “Nah, that’s fine. Bring over one of the Jiffypop pans.”
Emery opens the well-stocked pantry and grabs two pans. She stiffles a laugh and tucks something under her arm, walking over to the coffee table. Shoving the Potter book out of the way, she sets down the beers before placing the box on the table and handing him the pans.
“What’s that?” he asks, peeling off the cardboard label on the foiled pan.
“Scrabble. Sexy scrabble?” She laughs, opening the box and dumping the tiles on the table, many falling to the floor.
“You mean like in that story you were reading a few months ago?”
“Yea,” she blushes. “I thought it was funny,” Emery giggles, taking a sip from her beer and creating a pile of pillows by the couch.
He shakes his head, reaching for a pillow, and resting it against the hearth, the fire at his back. “Can’t believe you still read that crap…” he mumbles, looking over his shoulder to the flames, jostling the popping kernels.
“Actually, those two authors are published and-”
“Dammit, I knew something was up!” He pumps his fist in the air and his face lights up. “I remember that story.” He pulls the handle of the pan from the fire and drops it on the stones, letting it cool. “That was the one with Tom… That’s it, you’ve got a Hiddleston crush now, don’t you? That’s why you were so weird when he was on set, geezus, how did I not see it?”
She purses her lips and hides her smile. “Well, hell, the way those two women write, how could I not see him a little differently? I know, I know, it’s weird. It’s not like a crush, more like, ‘I know I’ve met him before but how did I not realize he was attractive?’ Does that make sense?”
He sighs, counting out his tiles for the game. “No, but I’ll take your word for it.” Sitting across the table from her, he enjoys teasing her, likes watching the firelight flicker over her ginger hair, bringing out flecks of gold. He knocks his foot against her calf, before picking her leg up and resting her foot in his lap, massaging the ball of her foot. “So you aren’t going to run away from me? Leave me for Tom?”
“Oh, no! I could never do that to Anna! She’s the sweetest!”
“What?” he barks out, his laughter barely contained.
Her blush is as red as her hair and she drops her face into her little hands, the light bouncing off the silver wedding band and large stone. “Shit! That’s not what I meant and you know it-”
“Cuz, ya know Anna is really cute too and-”
“Shut up, Christopher. That’s not what I meant at all, and you know it.” She tosses a tile at him. “Are we gonna play the game or what?”
“You know I’m very competitive. All right, give me the rules again.”
He reaches behind him for the popcorn, placing the inflated silver mound on the table before breaking the seal open and popped kernels spilling out onto the table. She explains the rules as she remembers from the fan fic story she’d read and told him about, and they begin their word game, using only words related to sex acts, providing entertainment as the sun set. The pair banter back and forth, laughing over use of slang and foreign words.
Chris looks up from his phone waving it at Emery when she sets back down from checking the dinner.
“We can eat now or la- what? Why are you waving that at me?”
“Tom thinks you’re cute too. He sends his best for Christmas in case he and Anna don’t make it back for reshoots till after the holidays.”
Her jaw hangs open momentarily and he tosses a piece of popcorn inside. “You did not.”
He raises his eyebrow, in what should be a trademarked move. He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. “He happened to text just now about some studio gossip he heard, and Anna invited us for New Year’s Eve. I may have mentioned you have a new appreciation for his ‘good looks.’ Bastard wanted to know what size Loki pajamas you would want for Christmas.” He chuckles, his eyes turning dark. “I forbid you to wear those in our bed.”
She pushes back her hair. “Is that a tone of jealousy I hear, Mr. Evans? Are you worried another superhero could steal my heart?”
“He’s the villain,” he growls.
“Oh, I see… So you can look at other women, while I stand back and watch quietly while fans drape themselves all over you, but if I happen to say one of your co-stars is good looking, after all this time, you’re gonna get bent out of shape?”
“Hell, yeah, Emery, ‘cuz you’re mine. I don’t want you thinking about any other guy, the way you think about me. I get why you read fan fics, still.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “No different if I decide to watch porn while we’re apart,” at the look on her face, he adds, “Which is rare, which is rare,” he laughs. “But I don’t want you having sexual fantasies about my friends. Our friends. It’s weird.”
Rearranging her tiles, she can’t lift her eyes to his. She says quietly, “I don’t have sexual fantasies about your friends. Only you.”
He likes teasing her. “Emery Thomas Evans, can you boldly tell me you didn’t marry me because I’m a Marvel man, and have famous friends.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s not important to me.” She lays out her next word on the board. ‘Spank.’ “I totally married you for your amazing cock.”
He coughs, holding back his laughter, watching her mouth twitch as she tries not to laugh as well. “Is that all? That’s the only reason?”
“Well, that and your money. Being a poor, broke teacher was getting old… Thank god you don’t work for DC,” she throws out.
“My money? Really Miss ‘I Bought All My Christmas at Wal-Mart?’”
She slaps her thigh. “Oh! Look who’s talking?! You are still wearing the same Henley from 2006 and won’t wear the new ones I buy you.”
“Target. Quality stuff. 2006 was a good year,” Chris says, running his hands over the well worn fabric. “And it’s comfortable. The new ones are itchy and tight, and damn, Em, they just don’t make them like they used to.”
With a giggle and a smirk on her face, she rises, silently pausing the game. She moves to the kitchen and he gets up to follow her, reaching for the plates as she opens the cook pot. “Christopher Robert Evans, it’s not like you are eighty years old and they only made good shirts when you were young! The new ones will stretch out if you just wear them.” Emery rolls her eyes and serves out the pasta dish, smelling remarkably just like Mama Lisa’s kitchen.
Emery’s eyes flutter open when she realizes too much sunlight is pouring into the small cabin. She blinks repeatedly trying to focus and make sense of what she sees. Chris’s round bubble butt comes into view first. “Evans, what the hell are you doing?” she laughs, throwing a pillow at him.
“Just enjoying the view. The fresh air.” He looks back over his shoulder with an impish grin. “Bringing in the sun to wake you up, sleepyhead. Come here, you’re not gonna believe this.”
Grumbling, she pulls the comforter from the bed, wrapping it around herself. “You better close that door and bring your parts back inside. You’re no good to me if your dick freezes and falls off.” Her voice is tight and raspy, the cold air having taken its toll overnight. She tiptoes across the cold floor to stand behind him. Holding tight to the corners of the blanket, she wraps her arms across his chest, cocooning them both in the warmth of the bedding. “What time is it?” she asks sleepily.
“Vacation time. Who gives a fuck? Anyway, we’re snowed in.”
“Hmmm…” she hums, nestling against his back. The feel of his favorite faded flannel against her cheek is comforting and she’s so happy to be in his arms again. “What?” She blinks, really opening her eyes, surprised to see the truck and lane covered with snow. He nudges her backwards and closes the door. “Can you believe I hardly ever saw snow as a kid, and now it snows here at least once a year? So weird.”
“Global warming,” he scoffs, spinning her around to the front of his body, laughing when she jumps back. He pulls her close, whispering, “We get an early Christmas present. Production is shut down for a few days. Atlanta is at a stand still and the power is out. It’s messing with filming.”
“Hard to look like Wakanda with snow on the ground,” she offers. “Do we have power?”
“I don’t know; I haven’t checked,” he admits. “I just woke up myself when the phone rang-”
“Were you about to… pee off the front porch?”
Laying back on the couch, he pulls her on top of him. “Hey, we’re camping-”
“No. No. I don’t need to know anymore. Thanks. God, men are so weird.” she giggles.
“So we’re stuck inside? Might I suggest choosing another word on the board? Maybe make it a combo act?” He teases, pointing to their abandoned game. “I think last night’s winner should choose the word.”
She slows her breathing to match his, lulling into a restful state, nestled in his arms as he combs his fingers through her hair. “I wanna sleep more. I never sleep well when you’re gone. And it’s been so crazy. But now it’s just us. So let’s go back to bed.”
He chuckles and she vibrates against him. “I don’t think you mean that the way I hope you mean that.” Chris drops his head to kiss the top of her mass of wild red curls.
Emery’s fingertips graze over his chest and she delights in the goosebumps that form across the solid plane. Her heart begins to beat faster and she pulls in all the details of the moment. His warm skin. The dark words etched into his flesh. The small scar on his neck. His freckled cheeks. “Hey, Chris?” She lifts her head to look at him. “This may be the best Christmas present ever. More time with you. Thank you.”
His lips turn into a smile. “Mother Nature and I worked that out, together, just for you, kitten. Merry Christmas, Emery.”
Click here for the next Emery&Chris story, Hero In-Laws
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